Ficlets

The Druid Emmerges

Magic was churning like an enzymatic processes digesting good or evil in it wake. Maybe it was more of a metamorphosis, he could not tell from beneath the falling Stangurd river. Yet this is where he found solitude from nature, the Yewmans and the magic, it had led him to this place because of the silence.

Yes, the constant roar of the falls has drowned the constant murmur of ancient darkness thought Lugus.

Like all druids he knew that the darkness was not to be feared but rather embraced, a ring of pure silver circumventing both light and dark neither having dominance but infinitely coexisting in harmony.

Why do we always struggle then? he sighed.

He emerged from behind the falls to the ledge that wound up the side of the great cliffs. His multi brown hued hooded cloak flapping in the wind never getting wet made him look ominous as he stood atop the falls. Toward the east he went while the sun painted the clouds a dizzying array of colors.

Something’s amiss in the meadow.

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